


Alpha 36

by Brewrites



Series: Hidge Week 2017 [5]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: F/M, Food strikes back, Lance sets them up on a date, and a disaster, it's cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-26
Updated: 2017-05-26
Packaged: 2018-11-05 00:35:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11002269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brewrites/pseuds/Brewrites
Summary: Hidge week 2017. Day 5: Date. Lance is determined to set Pidge and Hunk up on a date.





	Alpha 36

She couldn't believe Lance had pulled her away from studying the shell and all of it supposed great properties. Correction: She couldn't believe Lance had pulled her away from important research to raid Allura’s massive closet again. 

“Lance,” she said, her fingers itching to do something technical, “What are we doing in here?” She asked, looking around at the vast array of colors and shapes, none of which would actually fit her without Allura’s magical shrinking machine. She figured Hunk had the opposite problem. 

Hunk… she wondered what he was doing. 

She forced her face back into a neutral scowl as Lance turned around and shoved a bright fluffy pink disaster into her arms. 

“Lance,” she repeated, staring down at it and then back to the goofy grin plastered on his face. “You want me to wear a dress?” Could it really be called that? “For what?” 

“Can't the two of us just have a nice fancy dinner where we dress up for no reason?” He looked guilty. 

She caught him. “Uh huh,” she answered, “And what is Hunk? A singing candelabra that prepares the food?” 

“Aha!” Lance exclaimed and she waited for his huge declaration. “So my make him dinner plan worked and you let him thread the needle!” 

She could feel her cheeks heating up, but she tried to play it cool. She figured he had already asked Hunk, and he had been a fortress. He may have been nosy as hell, having read her diary three more times since they’d been on the ship and her research notes several times, but he had never told anyone else her secrets. 

“I will neither confirm nor deny that something might have happened after dinner,” she decided. Let him stew on that for a little while. “And pink, Lance? I don't think so.” 

He pulled another from the closet, a golden color with shimmering sequins down the front but not enough to be gaudy with a long enough skirt to be flirty, but not make her feel over exposed. Or it would, if she was 6’7 with hips like a Victorian Matriarch. 

“Watch the singing, dancing candelabra resist you in this!”

\-----

She fought Lance the entire way to the dining room. She had fought him all afternoon as he begged her to let him do her hair, and her make up. She let him tame her hair, tying it back with a scrap of fabric the same color as the dress. She drew the line at make up, her stomach already swirling with anticipation and fear. 

“Have fun!” Lance cooed as he shoved her into the dining room, shutting the door before she could chase him back out.

She knew it was just Hunk, but the anticipation, the build up, the expectations made her heart pound in her ears and her palms sweat, but not enough to wipe anywhere. Nobody liked clammy hands. 

“Damn!” Hunk cursed from behind her, but it wasn't in the reverent way she had seen in romantic comedies. It was more like a curse. He probably hated it. 

“Does it look bad?” She asked, turning back to face him, taking him in, looking comfortable in a button down shirt and pressed pants. She brushed her bangs from her forehead, and hoped she wasn't blushing as much as it felt like she was. 

“No,” He answered quickly. “No, no, no,” he continued, all joining together to sound like one word. He sighed. “Lance bet me twenty bucks that he could get you in a dress.” He cleared his throat, his cheeks pink, avoiding her entirely. “Let me try that again.” 

She was definitely blushing as he scrubbed his hands across his face in embarrassment. 

“You look really nice, Pidge,” he said, catching her eye, then looking away again. “I mean pretty, no I don't, I mean beautiful.” 

With each compliment her face only seemed to get warmer, and he only seemed to be blushing more. 

“You don't look so bad yourself,” she answered. 

He smiled. “What?” He asked. “This old thing? Just something I've had in the back of the closet for about ten thousand years.”

She laughed at that, as cheesy as it was. 

“Ladies and Gentlemen!” Lance exclaimed, his French accent absolutely atrocious. “I now present your dinner!” He ushered them forward toward the table, a plate in each hand. 

She stared down at the alien food she didn't recognize. It was never a combination she had never seen Hunk make before and she wasn't sure she trusted Lance in the kitchen. If she had cooked and set Coran’s socks on fire, she didn't want to know what trouble Lance could get into. 

She waited until Lance left, telling them “Bone Apple Teeth,” instead of “Bon appetit”, before she looked up to Hunk. 

“Is it safe?” She asked, her voice low in a whisper, in case Lance was listening behind the door, like she expected he was. “These aren't Coran’s boxers or anything, right?” 

The way he laughed made her want to kiss him again. “Well it's not Coran's boxers,” he whispered back, “And I'm not sure how well the Kuvanti goes with the Yorra, but I doubt we’ll need the pods.” 

She nodded along, reaching for the fork. “So how was yellow?” She asked, trying to decide if she wanted to risk the goopy potato looking stuff, or the shiny slick fishy looking thing first. In the end she decided the fishy looking thing. 

“She's good,” he answered. “Just needed a little tune up after all of the sand and grit from that desert planet.” He pushed around the food on his plate as she struggled to cut into the fishy thing. “Hang on a tick,” he realized. “He shouldn't have boiled the Kuvanti, it--”

BOOM!

She jumped as the little fishy thing popped out of the hard shell and exploded, sending dark ink all over both of them, then retreated back into the shell, scuttling off the plate and toward the edge of the table. 

She stared at him, and he stared back at her, looking as if he had rolled through a newspaper factory. Then he laughed, a huge belly laugh rocking through his entire body, echoing around the dining room. 

She couldn't help but join him. 

“I'm sorry,” he forced out through giggles. “I shouldn't be laughing so hard, but you look ridiculous!” 

The harder she laughed, the more she wanted to kiss him. “So do you,” she answered. “So is this stuff edible?” She figured it was, but the longer he laughed, the more she wanted to kiss him, feel him chuckle against her skin, take in some of that sunshine. “Or should we rinse it before it eats through our skin and leeches into our bones making us bioluminescence like glow worms?”

Was she babbling? She couldn't really tell, or stop it. Maybe she just wanted to keep him laughing. 

“I'm worried about it eating a hole through that beautiful brain of yours,” he said, “It would be a real tragedy to have you as a zombie, Pidge.”

She knew he was joking and there she found her opening. “Eh,” she shrugged, standing up and joining him on the other side of the table. It was kind of depressing that they were the same height when he was sitting down. He looked up at her, his eyes watching her with a softness as she dug her fingers into his hair from behind. “I would just eat your brain.” 

She tugged him back by his hair with just enough force that a slight shout got caught in the back on his throat. She leaned forward, thankful for the heeled boots that Lance had found, and found his lips with hers, kissing him hard, her lips firm against his, the ink bitter, but his lips exclusively Hunk flavored.

“I can understand the misconception,” he said gently, when she pulled away and eased her grip on him. “But that's not my brain.” 

She shrugged gently. “I never did get to take basic life saving at the Garrison,” she joked. 

“Oh no!” He answered, bringing his hands up to his cheeks in fake shock. “It's starting!” He pulled her onto his lap with a smoothness she hadn't expected. “Initiating life saving procedure Alpha 36!” He brushed his thunbs across her cheeks, getting most of the goop and flinging it to the floor, then he pulled her closer, his hands cupping her cheeks, and kissed her. “Remain calm,” he continued softly, his lips brushing against hers gently. “With enough Alpha 36, you should be just fine.” 

“My hero!” She said, trying to catch his lips. “I seriously hope this isn't actually lethal, because I'm not moving.” 

“If he had baked it, Lance would have known it was an aphrodisiac, but he boiled it, so now it's just a mess,” he answered. 

“Poor us,” she answered. “Less talking, more Alpha 36.” 

And he did. 

\-----

She jumped as the door to her room slid open as she dried her hair with the fancy towel. “Lance, I swear to god, if you ask me one more time about threading the needle I’ll--” 

She turned to see Hunk with a smile plastered across his face. “So he's been pumping you for information too,” he said. “He seems confident that we--” he paused. “Threaded the needle.” 

She laughed. “That was a pretty good impression.” She liked the way he tried to imitate Lance’s wide lipped smirk. 

“Yeah, I'm not sure where he got that impression, but that's not why I'm here.” 

Why was he there? In an instant, her heart began to pound in her chest. What couldn't wait?

“I had a lot of fun, even though our date kind of went off the rails,” he said, holding his hands out in front of him, a shield of sorts. He was nervous. He was going to tell her that he just wanted to be friends and she knew it. 

“I understand,” she said. “With the age difference between us it only makes sense that we should stay--” 

“I was wondering if you wanted to go out on an actual date, like when we get back to earth,” he forced out, quickly, all at once. She almost didn't understand him. “If we get back to earth,” he added. 

“What?” She asked. That wasn't what she expected at all. 

His cheeks were on fire. “I mean I know it's early and we might never get back to earth, but--” he dropped his hands to his sides and stood a little straighter. “I'm asking you out, Pidge.” He took a deep breath. “Will you go on a real date with me if we make it back to earth?” 

“When,” she said, dropping the towel and taking his hands. “When we get back to earth.” She watched the smile settle on his face. “And yes. I would love to go on a real date with you.” 

She yelped as he scooped her up, planting kisses on her cheeks and her lips and any other bare skin he could find.

She found she couldn't quite complain about Alpha 36.


End file.
